Up Front

I don't want to know
when nights opaque with hate
bear heavy shoes on the girl
and boy who know nothing
of life and anger.

I don't want to speak
on days which hearts break
and crumble unexpectedly
on a rock by the river
which sweep away drunk memories.

Trouble not the minds
of the innocent for they
know nothing of love and hate
but do speak of romantics
and of authors and poets
for they hide emotions in words
and hide feverish desire in hearts.